Escapee
by earthling44
Summary: Rewrite. In the movie, the girl from District 4 is not shown has having died. What happened to her? What happened to Europe? All will be explained...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello everyone! This is a rewrite of a fic I had on here ages ago before I decided to take it down. It's basically a huge headcanon that was spawned when I went to go and see the Hunger Games movie. In the book, both tributes from 4 die and are mentioned dying, but in the movie, the girl from 4 is not shown as having died in the bloodbath and her death is not mentioned subsequently, so the big question is: What happened to her? It also ties in with the other big question of Panem, What happened to all of the other countries? Have a nice day! **

'Scarlett! Get up! It's Reaping Day!'

I open my eyes. My 7-year old sister Emily is leaning over my bed, all smiles and curls. I begrudgingly get up. 4 is a weird district, because a small minority are actually enthusiastic about the games, and the rest don't really care. Reaping Day is just a bit of a pain because we can't do anything in the morning, it halts the markets for the day and the traffic in the square is a nightmare in the week beforehand because they're setting everything up.

I feed Emily some cereal and send her across the road to go and play with her friend (Mum and Dad own The Flying Fish, Northern 4's main restaurant, and they are both there at the moment because everyone goes out for breakfast on Reaping Day because it's a public holiday and nothing starts until noon) and get ready to meet my friend Coral at The Flying Fish so that we can join the rest of the district and capitalise on the free food opportunity (well it's free for her, anyway).

I park my bike outside the restaurant and go to find Coral. She's not hard to spot, with her oversized sunglasses and shiny red hair. She's really nice, but a bit ditzy; a prime example of somebody who would not do well in the Hunger Games. Unless, of course, it involved swimming (we're on the sub-district swim team together), but they already did that for the 70th Games. Annie Cresta, one of our own, won that. There was a whole song-and-dance at the end of it by Districts 1 and 2 saying it gave us an unfair advantage. It was a bit late for the Capitol to do anything though, since, obviously, the District 1 and 2 tributes were already dead. Also, 1 and 2 have huge training academies, not informal classes like we do here. Talk about an unfair advantage.

Coral and I have a nice chat over some crayfish scrambled eggs. The swimming finals against Southern 4 are coming up, so we talk tactics for that, and Coral explains her reaping dress in almost agonising detail. I have a bit of a moan about how I'm a leftie and am therefore guaranteed to get hit multiple times at post-reaping beach cricket this afternoon (an annual tradition with Coral's and my family). Coral insists that we finish at 11 so that we have time to get ready (I'm just putting a dress and a bit of makeup on, who knows what she's doing), so we part ways and I head home to get changed.

I silently thank Coral for wanting to leave so early when Emily returns all covered in flour. I curse myself for sending Emily to play with the baker's daughter and tell her to go and have a bath and not to touch her precious reaping dress until there is no trace of flour left on her. I quickly get myself ready before embarking on the long process of getting a scruffy 7-year-old to look presentable. No sign of the parents; as usual, they are preparing for the post-reaping lunch rush.

After much screaming and brushing and general cleaning, I grab some sweets to pacify Emily and we walk to the end of our street to meet Coral. Her powers of description are very good; it looks exactly like she said it did. She fawns over my dress (I can tell she's being fake; my dress isn't all that nice. I got it for 28 capidollars off a sale rack yesterday after I realised I was dress-less. It's cooked-lobster red and make out of District 8's crappiest satin. It does flatter my non-existent figure though, which is the primary reason why I bought it) as we walk to the square.

The square is absolutely packed. People have come from all over District 4 for this, and some people have really made an effort. I feel quite underdressed in my 28-capidollar dress and basic braided hair, especially standing next to Coral in her 100% silk sea-green Capitol creation and hair that explains why she was so anxious to leave The Flying Fish.

I leave Emily with Dad, who has left the restaurant for a bit to supervise her, and make my way with Coral to the 16-year-olds section. I daydream about winning the Swimming Gala whilst the bureaucrats make their usual speeches and they show us the same video they show us every year (they really need to make another one). Then, I figured I should probably tune in for the actual reaping, seeing as there is a slight chance someone I know could be involved in this. Alvarina, our idiotic escort, attempts to create some suspense by waving her hand over the fishbowl for a bit before pulling out a name. 'And the female tribute for District 4 is…'

'Coral McPherson'

Damn. Coral wouldn't last five seconds in the Hunger Games. Maybe I should…

'I volunteer!' I yell, running up to the stage. 'I, Scarlett Reed, volunteer to be District 4's female tribute for the 74th Hunger Games.' Well, that was probably a bad idea. I'm going to be killed at some point in the next two weeks. Fan-bloody-tastic. Alvarina goes on about how brave I am for a bit whilst I stand there looking terrible in my cheap dress and (metaphorically) kicking myself for being such an idiot before she goes to the boy fishbowl. Who's going to look after Emily? Who's going to do the Friday night waitressing shift at The Flying Fish? Who's going to replace me on the swimming team?

'Christian Kelly'

A scrawny kid with epically curly hair comes to the stage. He's only 14 years old and a couple of older kids try to volunteer for him but this huge guy in the audience bellows: 'My son will compete!' Christian looks like he's about to soil himself. The poor sod. At least I have only myself to blame… I shake his trembling hand and allow myself to be escorted to the Justice Building.

What the hell did I just get myself into?


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello my dear chums. Welcome to Chapter 2. I apologise for my inability to write tragic goodbye scenes. Have a nice day! **

Trying to retain as much dignity as possible whilst having a minor breakdown inside, I walk to my allocated room in the Justice Building and wait for my family. The room is all plushy and elegant. It's weird, seeing as it's basically a glorified abattoir.

Emily runs in. 'Scarlett, why do you have to go?!' She engulfs me in a huge hug.

My mother, still in her chef's whites, whispers: 'What are we going to do without you?'

I try to say what they say in all of the propaganda videos. 'Don't worry, be strong. I will win this for you and then the restaurant will be able to sell all of the luxury goods of the Capitol and we will be eternally rich and we'll never have to worry about anything ever again.'

'I don't want to be rich if it means you have to kill people,' sobs Emily. I am beginning to crack now and the Peacekeeper is checking his watch.

My father, for the first time in this fun family meeting, speaks. 'Remember what I taught you with the spear. Learn as many survival skills as possible but make sure you can be self-sufficient.'

We say our long goodbyes before the peacekeeper runs out of patience and brings Coral in.

'I'm so sorry,' she mumbles. 'You don't have to do that for me.'

I snort. 'Too late now. I've volunteered and my face is on TV in the Capitol. Trust me Coral; it's better this way.'

'Well you've got to win for me, yeah? I mean let's face it; it would really suck if you died and I could have won.' I laugh. Trust Coral to come up with something like that. We stare at each other for a bit, neither of us knowing what to say. We've been friends for years, ever since her parents bought the shop next door to The Flying Fish for their clothing business. Coral isn't the brightest fish in the sea, but she genuinely means well in everything she does. I'll be sorry to leave her behind.

Suddenly, Christian appears and says we have to go. They really don't give us long enough for this process. I give him one of my legendary death stares and follow anyway. Now I'm part of this, if I don't conform, I die. There is no middle ground.

We sit awkwardly in the car on the way to the station while Alvarina goes on about how amazing the Capitol is and how much we'll love it, if only for a few days. Christian, smart child, obviously knew this was going to happen, so he has a PMP (portable music player) with him to drown her out. He's got his music on so loud, I can hear it from here. It's that death metal stuff that I'm not a huge fan of, but it's better than Alvarina. I ask if he'll share it, and surprisingly he does. I make a mental note not to kill this one.

We arrive at the station and get on the train. It's even more luxurious than the room in the Justice Building. Alvarina escorts us into what looks like the main room.

'Meet your mentors!' she squeals.

Our mentors sit next to a table full of food. Finnick Odair is there, looking spectacular as usual with Annie Cresta and a girl who resembles her.

Finnick explains this odd arrangement. 'We decided to give poor old Mags a break this year so she can do the Quarter Quell next year, so Annie is the figurehead mentor and this here is Grace, her sister, who will be doing most of the actual mentoring.' He looks at Annie with such love. Those two are adorable. Shame about their situation, really.

'Now, let me get this straight, Finnick is paying me more than my family earned in a year before Annie won the Games to do this, so I will mentor you to the best of my abilities, but you need to keep it in mind that I don't actually want to be here at all,' says Grace. 'In my opinion, the vast majority of Capitolites are idiots and the ruling minority are highly functioning sociopaths, so you must make sure that you do not treat them like normal people. Be on your guard at all times and you should be fine. Well, that is, until one or both of you die. Then you can do what you want.'

Christian's eyebrows are practically in the ionosphere. I'm fairly sure mine are the same.

Finnick motions to the food. 'Do start everyone. Now, I wouldn't quite word it the way Grace did, but she is right. You must be very careful about what you say around Capitol people. Monitor everything, because they could take it the wrong way and that isn't good for your chances of survival.'

The food is amazing. If we had the facilities to sell this sort of stuff at The Flying Fish, we'd be set for life. We're pretty well off in 4, but there is a marked difference between our lives and those of the Capitolites.

Finnick teaches me the correct way to hold a throwing knife whilst Grace and Christian argue about the merits of Stab the Veil vs Snoozing with Sirens (glad to see they've got their priorities straight) before Annie starts covering her eyes and pointing at the television.

'Come on kiddies, time to watch the reapings,' says Grace, shepherding us towards the unnaturally fluorescent-blue sofa whilst Finnick goes off to try and calm Annie.

District 1 is the usual: shiny, pretty tributes that look like they've just come out of one of the luxury factories. District 2 provides us with a Hulk-esque boy and a strangely young girl. Grace elbows Christian. 'If you two could bond over your age, that would be great.' Christian rolls his eyes.

District 3's tributes are scrawny, but I take note of them anyway because they could be sneaky and clever. Then, it's us. I'm really regretting wearing that dress because the presenters are doing a running commentary on it.

'And we have a volunteer! Shame about that dress she's wearing, look at how awful the satin is! And that is a most garish shade of red…' Grace is giggling and even Christian is quietly grinning. Then, they start on Christian.

'Look at the size of him! He won't last 10 minutes!'

'You never know, maybe he's a fast runner or a great survivalist.'

'But let's face it; if he gets into battle with that boy from 2, he'll be finished.'

Christian was not amused. 'What do you think the likelihood is that I'll actually battle the boy from 2? I'll be high-tailing it as fast as possible in the other direction if he so much as looks at me.'

Grace smirks. 'We may make a victor out of you yet, little shrimp.'


	3. Chapter 3

Once we all get over the presenters' treatment of Christian, we turn back to the reapings. The girl from District 5 is walking to the stage. The first thing that strikes me is her resemblance to Coral. They have the same hair and colouring and even features to an extent, but this girl looks a lot more wily than Coral. She looks like she knows what she's doing. I might ally with her if the careers decide I'm completely hopeless (which is true. I wouldn't blame them for a second).

None of the other reapings are particularly special, until we get to the outer districts. The poor boy from District 10 has a limp.

'Well at least I have some chance of an ally with him,' mumbles Christian.

Finnick (who has now joined us) snorts. 'Now, now; Christian, do remember that I won the games when I was your age.'

Christian shoots him a glare that we all wish would be useful for him in the arena. 'That's not making me feel any better.'

The girl from 11 is 12, which is unfortunate. It's always sad watching 12-year-olds die. She has cute siblings too. I make a mental note not to kill her either. Maybe she'll befriend Christian so I have an excuse. The boy from 11 is huge. He could rival the boy from 2. Prospects are not looking good for me. I have written myself a death sentence and it's up to one of the people on this TV to sign it.

Wait…what?! The girl from 12 is a volunteer. That's odd. It appears that she has volunteered for her sister. I guess I would volunteer for Emily, but this girl is from 12. It's even more of a death sentence for her than it is for me.

'Damn,' says Christian. 'She's even more suicidal than you are, Scarlett.'

I give Christian one of my own death glares. 'Thank you for that useful piece of input, little shrimp. Maybe you can advise the careers when we get to the arena.'

Christian snorts. 'If only that honour could be bestowed upon me.'

Grace takes another sip of something that looks alcoholic and drawls: 'So Finnick, what do you think of the tributes?'

Finnick ruffles his hair and sighs. '1 and 2 are exactly as expected, apart from the young one from 2.' He looks at Christian and I. 'Find out why that is. Try and ally with them if you can; they seem your best bet other than the boy from 11, and I have a feeling he's not going to take to kindly to us inner district folks. The girl from 12 is a volunteer, but she looks sullen. She'll definitely be an attention grabber, so stay away from her. She will only outshine you if you're together. The others all look like potential bloodbath kills, but the girl from 5 may have potential for survival skills. Scarlett, you might want to speak to her if you can't get in with the careers.' I nod. 'Christian…just try and stay alive.'

Christian is growing on me. I don't want him to die, but I can't ally with him because he doesn't seem to have any motivation to get through this.

Finnick checks his watch. 'Off to bed now. We're up early in the morning. I'll brief you at breakfast.' Christian makes some sarcastic comment and I skulk off to my room.

I lie in bed and contemplate my situation. I have, on a whim, volunteered myself for a televised fight to the death. My final hours will probably be broadcast to the nation. I'm a fairly average District 4 teenager, and I don't have a hope in hell of winning. I can sort of spear fish (I go every summer with Em and the cousins), but what use is that going to be if the arena turns out to be a frozen wasteland? My family own a restaurant, but what's the likelihood that knowing how to take the poisonous bits out of a puffer fish is going to be necessary?

I give up on sleeping. The bed is too comfortable and I don't like it. I remember that I'm supposed to have a token, so I search through the pockets of my dress (Did I mention that I also bought it for the pockets?) for something of use. The only thing I can find is my set of house keys. I jolt as I realise that I won't need these anymore. Even if I do make it back to 4, they'll set me up in the Victors' Village. The key ring is a gold plated starfish that Melissa (another girl on the swim team) got me for my birthday a couple of years ago. I decide that it should suffice for a token, select my outfit for my Capitol entrance tomorrow (a white shirt that's made out of the same material as Coral's dress and the most naturally coloured pair of trousers I can find) and shove the keyring in the pocket of the trousers. I hang it on the chair and decide that maybe a shower will soothe my frazzled brain.

The shower looks like what I imagine the control panel of a hovercraft to look like. There are a million different buttons. I press a random combination of buttons and, disappointingly, a spray of lukewarm water dribbles out. I bristle and press some different buttons until the water is as steaming hot as I like it and relax for a bit; before I get doused in lavender flavoured soap (which I think is a bit invasive, really. Surely even Capitol people are capable of soaping themselves). It does some funny things to my hair and then I walk out looking like I've just spent the week at a spa.

Strange phenomena these Capitol people have been hiding from us. This is what happens, I suppose, when you have nothing better to do. I lie down in the oddly soft Capitol pyjamas and make up storylines in my head until I finally succumb to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hello lovely mute followers, welcome to Chapter 4. I do apologise for slight randomness, I have a horrible cold and my exhaustion has reached the 'mild hysteria' stage. Enjoy!**

'MORNING, SUNSHINE!' yells Grace. I hear Christian screaming obscenities at her and she walks out of the room, giggling.

'Guess who had a fun dream?' mutters Grace, when she comes into my room.

I shudder. 'I really did not need the mental image, Grace.'

She snorts. 'Think of it and you'll run extra fast away from the careers.'

I get dressed into my Capitol clothes and head to breakfast. I sit down and gawk at the sheer selection of food for a bit before Christian walks in, blushing.

Finnick winks at Christian. 'How was last night?'

'What happened?' asks Alvarina.

Grace munches on some toast. 'Our little friend had a wet dream and I forgot to knock this morning.'

'I did not need to know that!' squeals Alvarina.

Grace rolls her eyes. 'You asked.'

The breakfast table is truly astounding. I did not that there were that many different ways to cook eggs. The bread is not just the seaweedy stuff we get in 4, but full of different seeds and in every possible shape and size. This would be really popular at The Flying Fish! This breakfast is amazing, but I would give anything to be back there eating my favourite crayfish scrambled eggs.

Finnick whacks his teacup with a spoon (speaking of which, where has tea been all my life? It is actually so amazing). 'Ok people, listen up. When you get to the Capitol, you will be shepherded through large crowds of screaming people. 4 is not as far from the Capitol as some of the outer districts, so you will be shown to the Tribute Building where you can relax for a bit before you will be given to your prep teams. Try to be nice to them, no matter how annoying they may be. Then, you will be shown to your stylist, who will have prepared an outfit for you.'

We all hear screaming from another part of the train. Finnick curses under his breath. 'I have to go and calm Annie down, we must be nearly there. Grace, can you continue the briefing? You know the drill.'

Grace swallows some poached egg and continues. 'Keep your expectations low with the stylists. Our lovely district has a most unfortunate history with costumes, and it's unlikely to change this year. You've got to grin and bear it. Scarlett, they will probably put you in something very revealing, so watch out and try to stop yourself from cringing. Little shrimp, you're short, so they'll probably give you a really stupid headpiece that's supposed to make you look taller but ends up having the opposite effect.'

'Just what I needed,' mutters Christian.

'There will be no sarcasm in the Capitol, little shrimp. I struggled with it myself when I first had to go and represent Annie, but you get used to it.'

Christian slams his plate down. 'I don't care what I'm supposed to do and say in the Capitol! I'm puny and weak and I am not going to live out the next week! Why should I bother trying to suck up to the Capitolites when I will die the second I get to the arena? You saw those tributes yesterday on the TV! Even the boy from flipping district 12 could squash me with his little finger! Do you think I ever wanted any of this? People think that, just because we're from an inner district, we can't be poor, but alcoholism does things to people and this is how the next generation ends up.' He shoots me a look of such bitterness and desperation I don't know whether to flinch or to give him a hug. Grace beats me to it and gives him a hug and her yPod (like a fancy music player from the Capitol).

I wonder; if I had told myself a week ago that I would be on a train to the Capitol with Finnick Odair, the Cresta sisters and a fundamentally good but really unfortunate kid from the slums, what I would have said. I suppose I would have scoffed at the thought; surely there would have been a volunteer. But no, life does not work out like that. Christian will die and I probably will too.

The blackouts on the windows fade as we approach the Capitol. It's so bright, it hurts my eyes. The colours are so much more concentrated than in 4, it's almost surreal. I am leaving the realm of the normal.

'Make them love you,' murmurs Finnick. I wonder how many times he must have been through this moment, and how many of my predecessors are no longer alive. I come to my senses and take his advice. I smile and wave and pretend I volunteered because I wanted to, not because I'm incredibly impulsive. The crazy Capitolites cheer and blow kisses. I wonder how long they've been planning those outfits for. They certainly didn't come off of a sale rack for 28 capidollars. I gulp. These are the people who will take pride in my death, who will cheer on whoever kills me as they do it.

I look over at Christian, who is looking thoroughly miserable. I put my arm around his shoulders and make him smile and wave too. Even if he doesn't make it, I want our nation to remember him well.

The poor sod deserves it.


	5. Chapter 5

The whole District 4 crew gathers at the door as the train pulls up to the Capitol. The crowd has become thicker and more excited, and everyone on the train looks visibly nervous. Even Finnick is wringing his hands. I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

'Smile and wave,' breathes Finnick. 'Don't say anything. Now, move out.' He grabs my wrist and Annie's and leads us off of the train and through the screaming people, all wanting a photograph or a comment. He bundles us all into a car and begins to explain in further detail what will happen next.

'This car is taking us to the Remake Centre. Attached to that, there is a small Recreation Centre, because the Capitolites want to watch the reapings of the districts in order and it takes longer for the tributes from the outer districts to get here, so as a consequence of that, you have some time to kill.'

Christian winces.

Finnick apologises for the insensitive pun and continues. 'The tributes from 1, 2 and 3 will already be there, so you might want to chat to some people, form some friendships, etc. while you're there. After a couple of hours, you will be given to your Prep Teams, which Grace and I explained this morning.'

Alvarina points at a small, shiny building and squeals: 'There it is! Oh, I just can't wait to see you two all dressed up and looking beautiful!' There are universal eye-rolls and I reach into my pocket and squeeze my key ring, hoping that it will bring me some sort of luck.

The car goes into an underground car park so that we can get away from the crowds and Christian and I get out of that car.

'See you all later and remember- befriending a career is befriending food, water and supplies!' calls Grace.

Christian turns to me. 'Shall we do this separately or together?'

I channel my inner Melissa, who loves using really old language. 'I say we YOLO it.'

Christian sighs. 'You have got to be the most impulsive person I have ever met.'

'Why thank you, Little Shrimp. My impulsivity got me into this mess, now I'm banking on it to get me out.'

I push the door open and get an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. It looks just like the community centre in 4. The boys from Districts 1, 2 and 3 are in the games room playing foosball while the girl from 1 is flirting desperately with the boy from 2. The girl from 3 appears to have colonised the pinball machine. The girl from 2 is nowhere to be found. I zone in on a sign that says: 'Swimming Pool'.

'I'm going swimming,' I whisper to Christian. 'Do you want to come with?'

Christian shakes his head. 'There aren't many things I'm good at, but foosball just so happens to be one of them.' We wish each other luck and go our separate ways.

The first thing that strikes me about the changing room is how ornate the swimming costumes are. Whoever made them must have had no concern for aerodynamics or longevity at all! I pick the simplest one and rush to change into it. This could be the last opportunity I ever get to do my favourite thing and I intend to make the most of it.

I dive in and feel the water all around me. It feels like flying; my muscles move more instinctively in the water than they do on land. I conquer the water; it moves with me. This was what I was going to be; professional swimmer, move to the Capitol, coach Capitol swimmers for stacks of money. I completely lose myself in my childhood dream for the last time, before it all comes crashing down, literally. Someone is standing in my lane.

I stand up, irritated, and come face to face with the girl from 2.

'Sorry, Fish Girl, it was the only way to get your attention. I've been yelling for the last 5 minutes and you didn't respond.'

'Well, you have my attention now. You're District 2, right?'

'Yes, I'm Clove. You're District 4?'

I nod. 'Scarlett. So what brings you to the swimming pool?'

'I was hoping I could learn to swim before the games, but it's really not as easy as it looks.'

My jaw nearly hits the water. 'Do they not teach you to swim in 2?'

'There are no large bodies of water, and besides, the trainers place a much higher value on weapons skills, since they are used in all games.'

'But surely after Annie's games…'

Clove shakes her head. 'No swimming lessons.'

'Are we starting from the very basics or can you hold your breath without panicking?'

'We get taught how to fight whilst being strangled so I guess I can breathe underwater.'

I sift through my memories and eventually find the exercises I used to teach Emily how to swim. Clove is a fast learner, and clearly competent from her time at the Academy, so soon enough I have her confidently treading water and doing a basic flutter kick with some foam boards I found in a cupboard next to the pool.

Our lovely lesson is rudely interrupted by Christian, who notifies us that lunch is ready. Clove and I discuss his unfortunate situation whilst drying off.

'Is he really your district partner?' she asks.

'He got reaped and his dad made him participate.'

'That's awful. At least in 2, we want to participate.'

'It is sad. He's a really good kid as well. Strange music taste though. You're pretty young, what's your story?'

'You'll have to come and hang out in the District 2 apartment; it's a long story and I really need Cato there with me to tell it.'

'Are you two…?'

'Ew! Of course not! He's four years older than me! He's just really involved with it and I don't want to explain my life story to those idiots from 1. That's the other reason I interrupted your swimming. I'll take any excuse I can get not to hang out with those two imbeciles.'

I burst out laughing and we head off to lunch.


	6. Chapter 6

The group naturally splits when we sit down to lunch. The people from 5, 6 and 7 have arrived as well, and we're told that the Outer Districts will eat on their trains. Clove motions for me to sit with her, so my lunch time is set to be spent with the careers. Christian seems to have befriended the people from 3, and I don't really pay attention to the rest. I might have to kill these people, so it's better if I don't know the names of their pets. The girl from 5 looks remarkably like Coral, though. I might talk to her later on in the process.

As we dine, I get to know the careers. Cato and Clove definitely have a brother/sister relationship going on, which is weird because they are going to try and persuade the nation that they are cold-blooded psychopaths. The girl from 1 is REALLY annoying, and, between giggling pathetically and continuously twirling her hair around her finger, she sends me a stare which rivals Christian's. I feel like she's going to leap across the table and stab me with a fork. Clove doesn't seem to like her either, but chances are she's much more skilled than I am. I really don't know how long I'd last in this alliance. I might make a deal with Clove, but the chances of my survival with Glitter or whatever her name is are fairly slim. Especially because the boy from 1 knows how to use a spear as well. This is not looking good.

Lunch finishes and we are separated and taken to the Remake Centre. They plunge me into all sorts of lotions and potions, completely unfazed by the fact that I'm completely naked. Do they have any decency in the Capitol? The hair removal is honestly one of the most invasive procedures I have ever had to go through, and this is coming from a swimmer who has to wax anyway for aerodynamics. I feel like a fish being de-scaled.

After that trauma, they shove me, still naked, into a room with my stylist, who will either make me look like a slight idiot or a complete idiot, depending on how lucky District 4 are this year. Looking at her, I'm thinking complete idiot. She has skin the colour of the night sky, with tiny star tattoos dotted around her body. Her hair is in an arrangement that I'm fairly sure defies Newton's laws of gravity (despite the fact that 4 is the fishing district, Physics is still on the curriculum) and the colour of an emergency flare. She looks the least like a person you can get whilst still being a person. I dread to think what she has in store for me.

'Hello Scarlett!' she squeals in a similar manner to Alvarina. 'I'm Celeste, your stylist. I bet you can't wait to see your costume! It's so much better than that horrible dress you wore to the reaping. What were you thinking?'

I am so done with these people and I've only been here for about 5 hours. 'It's called a budget. I doubt you've ever heard of them, but they're very fashionable in the districts.'

Celeste covers her mouth with her hand. 'You will pay for your insolence.'

I am not sure what to say, and end up blurting out the first thing that comes into my head. 'Sorry Celeste, I can't afford it.'

She giggles. 'Ok, you win. That was actually quite funny.'

'So what is District 4 destined to be dressed as this year?'

'Well, you have beautiful blue tunics made from the finest of silk, with a sash sealed by a silver starfish pin. Of course, you also have the most amazing headpieces, custom made just for you!'

'What's Christian wearing?'

'Something quite similar.'

'Plus the headpiece?'

'His is even bigger than yours.' I smirk as I imagine Christian's face at being presented with a grand headpiece. This is going to be interesting.

Celeste orders me to close my eyes as my costume is brought in. It's quite comfortable, but the headpiece is really heavy. The shoes are flat; something fortunate that has come out of having Christian as a district partner. I open my eyes just a tiny bit…

It's awful. It's really, really bad. I look like the kids that couldn't act and were therefore cast as 'waves' in Emily's school play. The dress is a toga-like contraption in a really unnatural shade of turquoise and is way too short for the length of my legs, which makes me look like a giraffe. It also has a really tacky starfish brooch.

The headpiece is quite spectacular, which I suppose is the reason for the main outfit looking so drab, but it's not spectacular enough for the Capitol, and it makes me look even taller than I already am, which will make poor Christian look even tinier. There are pearls and blue tulle and random bits of plastic going left, right and centre, but it doesn't make any kind of statement.

'Do you like it?' squeals Celeste, like an overexcited puppy.

'Yes, it's lovely, and the headpiece is especially eye-catching.' Despite the fact that she has completely botched my outfit, I think that Celeste is a genuinely nice person and I am eternally grateful that I'm not wearing anything ridiculously revealing like the unfortunate costumes of the past.

She leads me out to the District 4 carriage, where Christian is already waiting. Oh my-

'Don't laugh,' growls Christian, stony faced. Poor Christian is completely dwarfed by his toga-like contraption, and the headpiece is at least three times the size of his actual head.

'Grace is never going to let you hear the end of this.'

'She is literally going to make fun of me until the day I die.'

'Don't worry Christian. At least we have all parts covered.'

'You have a point there.' Celeste and Christian's stylist, who looks nearly as grumpy as he does, help us board the chariot and we're off.

A wave of sound and colour hits me and my eyes widen. It's like the big swimming races, but this time I can't escape to the water.

'Scarlett,' Christian hisses, 'aren't we supposed to smile and wave and act like we want to be here?'

I snap out of my trance and nod. 'Good thinking, Little Shrimp.'

So we smile and wave and act like we want to be here. It works to an extent, but we don't have the spotlight. Everyone is focussing on the careers who, believe it or not, look even more idiotic than we do.

Then, the people from District 12 appear and my heart sinks to the floor. They have such awesome costumes. Coral will be wetting herself with excitement watching this. They are literally on fire. Sure, it's pretty tacky looking fake fire, but it's a damn sight better than us and the Capitolites love it. I decide to zone out. Now that the flame children have arrived, I could do the bloody chicken dance and nobody would notice.

I daydream about swimming and the beach and the district I might not ever see again. 4's hardly paradise, but I'd gladly take it over the rest of Panem, including the Capitol.

I snap back into focus as Christian and I get off the chariot. 'So, how was it?' asks Finnick.

Christian's face twists into a scowl that could melt Capitol makeup. 'Ugh, Catpiss and the factorised version of completely out-costumed us.'

My district partner has already gone insane and we're not even in the games yet. 'What does have to do with any of this?'

Christian sighs. 'It's a prefect square, just like the boy from 12's jaw line.'

Grace whacks him around the head with a program. 'Christian, if you make mathematical puns in your interview, I am not going to send you a single sponsor gift.'

Christian looks pleadingly at Finnick. Finnick shakes his head. 'Not a chance, Little Shrimp. Mathematical puns are not good for PR. Trust me, I would know.'


End file.
